


I'm fine, John

by GizmoTrinket



Series: Stray Thoughts on BBC Sherlock [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Episode: s02e02 The Hounds of Baskerville, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I am super depressed, John is unobservant af, M/M, Miscommunication, Not Beta Read, POV First Person, POV Sherlock Holmes, Pining Sherlock, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Harm, Sentiment, Sherlock doesn't help, Sherlock doesn't understand emotions, Unrequited Love, all angst, did i mention miscommunication?, messed up dreams, they're both idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-07-15 21:18:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7238857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GizmoTrinket/pseuds/GizmoTrinket
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I realized I could talk. "I'm fine, John." That's what people say. Fine. It's the socially acceptable thing people do.</p><p>Sherlock realizes he in love with John but doesn't understand how to cope with all the alarming emotions. John doesn't figure out what's wrong. And they both come to incorrect conclusions because they're idiots and it kills me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm fine, John

**Author's Note:**

> In case you were wondering, I am depressed and am writing this instead of doing the "work" I need to do on my other stories. I write angst to deal with my own problems. Since this turned out decent enough considering and I spent 12ish hours on it I'll share my pain.

\----Sherlock's POV----

John has been acting oddly. John has always been difficult to predict. I'd thought that once I spent a little time with him, a few days but no more than a week, that I would be able to read him. I could read him, to an extent. For example: I knew John would flirt with any woman that looked at him for longer than 3.42 seconds if he had the opportunity and she wasn't wearing a ring. I knew John really didn't have a so called "type" of woman either. John would take what he could get for his overly developed libido. But, in just the past week, John hadn't called the woman who slipped him her number at the cafe. John also hadn't given the new girl at the Tesco his number even though she was clearly flirting with him.

I couldn't figure out _why._ John wasn't experiencing erectile dysfunction. John wasn't depressed. John wasn't pining over his last girlfriend. John's libido hadn't decreased. It seemed to have increased. He was taking longer baths more often and had replaced the box of tissues next to his bed ahead of his normal schedule.

The last girlfriend was quite angry John had cancelled their plans and had broken the relationship after. John always put me first. (Secretly, I loved it. If I couldn't have John as anything other than a flatmate and a colleague then at least I was the most important person in John's life.) I had assumed we were friends but John corrected me. That was an uncomfortable situation so I never brought up the subject again. I needed a title for my John so I settled on my blogger. John just called me Sherlock as if my name was some sort of descriptive term. Had John stopped dating because the girlfriends wanted to come first in John's life and John would always put me first?

Possible.

I knew John found men sexually attractive as well. But John never acted on these feelings. I think. John had certainly never acted on them as long as I've known him. John was awkward when men flirted with him and _never_ initiated such flirtations himself. I had wondered, at Angelo's, but John was adamant it was a misunderstanding. I deduced that John didn't like that part of himself and was ashamed of it. I figured if John knew I was gay John would become uncomfortable with me and it would ruin everything. I was perfectly happy (and completely miserable) letting John think I was asexual. It wasn't like I went on dates or had sex dates (so called "one night stands") anyway.

Why wouldn't John just go on sex dates then? He had no problems having sex without sentiment. Sure, John would be a little melancholy the next morning but that was because he had to resort to a sex date. John liked being in relationships. He was a romantic. The poetry... Urgh. But, John greatly preferred sex with a woman to masturbation. It seemed the logical solution. I wanted to point this out to him but John didn't like me poking my nose in his sex business. Went on about appropriate behaviour and how it was not good. It was just as well; when John had sex with other people it made me feel odd and upset. It took me far too long to recognize the emotion as jealousy. I'd never experienced it fully before and refused to think about the day when John left and I had to live with it forever.

Because he would.

I sorted through everything unusual John had done recently. John's behaviour indicated he had met someone but he was nervous about starting a relationship with them. It suggested some sort of personal attachment or newness. The only women John had a personal attachment to are Mrs. Hudson, Molly, his sister and Donovan. All ridiculous. The logical conclusion is that he is going to start trying to date men. He must have met someone at one of those get-togethers with all the people he called friends.

I rubbed my sternum to try to ease the sudden pain there. Stupid malfunctioning transport. I reminded it that I had not done enough cocaine for my heart to start failing and had no family history of heart attacks so it needed to stop. I tried to tell the part of my mind assigned to transport to ignore the pain but I couldn't get it to do so. I sliced the side of my finger on a slide. It hurt. I told my mind to ignore it and it did so. I tried pulling at the wound and it didn't hurt beyond the warning my mind gave me that the pain was increasing on a spot I told it to ignore.

Odd. Why didn't it work before?

The pain in my chest had lessened but was still uncomfortable. I tried to add it to ignored pain and it didn't work. The endorphins released by the other pain had lessened it and I wondered if it would work again. But I was wary of slicing another finger. The blood from this one was making a mess and John would be mad. Thinking about John made the pain in my chest worse and I sighed. Sentiment, of course. Fan-tas-tic. I wondered which emotion this one was. It wasn't any of the positive ones, anger, sadness- but close. Disappointment, depression, loneliness, rejection... None of them quite fit. What ones make your chest hurt. Your heart- "Oh." I breathed. Heartbreak. The pain worsened and I used the clean hand to rub my chest. How _maudlin._ It was disgusting, really.

"Jesus, Sherlock! What happened?!"

I hadn't realized John had come home. I looked at my finger and the mess it was making. "There was a..." My chest throbbed. "...miscalculation." I didn't understand just how much I needed, no, wanted, no- loved. I didn't realize that I loved John.

I was in love with John.

"Sherlock? Sherlock?! Can you hear me?"

Yes.

"Are you ok?"

No, no I don't think so. No.

"Sherlock, you with me?"

No. That's the problem. You don't want me.

"Sherlock? I need to see your hand, ok? Does your chest hurt? Why are you rubbing-"

John grabbed my hand and I jerked back in shock. It always felt different when John touched me. It didn't feel bad the way it did with the others. But now, it felt, different and a new kind of bad. I realized I could talk. "I'm fine, John." That's what people say. Fine. It's the socially acceptable thing people do.

"Sherlock? What's wrong? Why are-"

"I'm FINE!" I snapped. I couldn't stand it if he touched me again. John was being John though and he was tenacious.

"Sherlock, there's blood everywhere and you're acting-"

Stop saying my name! I can't! "I'll take care of it." I stood and fled to the bathroom.

"Sherlock!" John was following me.

I shut and locked the door. Then I turned on the tap. I watched the blood run down the sink. Turn the tap water red and disappear down the drain. When the water ran clear... er I felt better. I examined the wound.

Nothing serious. It wouldn't kill me.

I wrapped a plaster around it.

Keep it covered. It'll heal.

Might leave a scar though.

\----

I can't sit here and wonder who John is going to ask out.

I need a case.

\----

 _WHY_ did I ever agree to quit smoking?!

It was bothering John.

John was always leaving to avoid the smoke. I _need_ John. When John leaves... I have to spend as much time with John as possible.

\----

John hasn't asked him out yet. I can't figure out who it is! This is driving me mad!

"I NEED A CASE!!"

\----

"Oh, _John_."

It's happening, it's finally happening. John's kissing me. The feel of his lips. My hands, running through his short hair. He pushes me against the wall and kisses down my neck. " _John_..."

"What do you want? Can't you see I'm busy here, Sherlock?"

John had someone else against the wall.

"I thought you were out. What are you doing here?" John was palming the other man through his trousers.

"I... I..." I stuttered, eyes glued on his hand.

"He wants you, love. Silly little thing thinks himself in love with you. As if you'd ever love him back. As if you'd ever want him." The man started laughing and John joined in.

"You, you think I'd..." John's giggling continued. "Oh, Sherlock! That's ridiculous!"

"I..." I didn't know what to say.

"Why don't you move out? Victor and I are going to take the flat." John said.

The man John was groping turned into Victor.

"No!" It's a dream. It's just a dream.

"We don't want you around. Neither of us want to see you again, in fact. So don't come back round here. I'll have Mycroft send you your things." This has to be a dream. Wake up!

"Hello, brother dear." Mycroft said from the doorway. "It would seem you're not wanted. Again." He twirled his umbrella. "Why don't you go get in the car, downstairs." He walked over to John and started rubbing his neck.

John leaned into the touch. "Mmmm, I love it when you do that. C'mere." John turned to kiss- NO!

I sat up gasping for air. I looked around my room. My room.

Nightmare.

They're getting worse.

\----

I can't sleep. I need to sleep. It's starting to affect... everything. I can't lie in bed thinking about the man John wants. The man John will ask on a date. The man John finds worthy. The man that John will sit across from, eating, laughing. Go over to his place... The man he will kiss... The... "ARGUH!!!"

"Sherlock, shut up!"

\----

Finally, a case!

"I'm not going to... whatever- Sherlock. You don't actually need me there."

John's being a pain.

"Fine." I huffed.

\----

"Sherlock Holmes?"

"What?" I growled at the PC.

"You need to move along. You're scaring people, standing there, covered in blood with a..." She trailed off, looking for the right word for my weapon.

"Pig's blood." I corrected. "And it's a harpoon."

"Right, well. You can't just sand here like that."

"None of the cabs will stop for me! I called one... ah!" My cab pulled along the kerb.

"You aren't getting in my cab like that!" The cabbie growled.

"I will pay to have it cleaned-"

"Doesn't matter, mate. Your.... thing won't fit in here anyway." He drove off.

"Come on, Mister Holmes. I'll get you on the tube." She guided me without touching me.

She had to spend the entire ride with me, assuring people I wasn't going to turn and start murdering them. "It's pig's blood!" I explained but it didn't seem to help.

I climbed back into the flat. "Well, that was tedious." Dealing with idiots always was. I hated taking the tube. It would have been better if John had come with me.

John was still cranky. I showered and tried to rest but the normal freedom that came with solving a good case didn't wash over me.

John. John, John, John. Who is it? The man John wants. Why hasn't he asked him?

Every time I blinked I saw a different man. The blinks where the men looked like me were the worst. My transport was messed up. I needed to masturbate but every time I tried some horrible part of a different dream interrupted.

I stood up. "JOHN!"

He shouted back about how he couldn't hear me. Ridiculous.

I put on clothes and a dressing gown instead of a jacket in case that bothersome erection came back. Once my door was open I tried again. "John! I need a case!"

"I'll check the papers."

\----

John requested a double.

A double.

Not two doubles. Not two rooms with doubles. Not double singles, whatever that would be.

A single room with double bed.

For us. For both of us. To share. With me.

John called an inn and asked for a double.

\----

It's me. John wants to... ask... me... on a date. John wants to start a... relationship. With me. I think. I don't know.

I don't know how to date. I don't know how to be in a relationship. I'd have to do all those... relationship, things. I don't know how to do those things. I don't even know what those things are.

I don't like not knowing.

\----

Sentiment, the swimming pool, danger... John. It's dangerous. He'll be hurt. It'll be my fault.

John likes danger. John needs danger.

He'll be hurt.

It'll be my fault.

I'm dangerous.

John needs danger.

\----

John didn't claim he wasn't gay. John didn't say, "I'm not gay." John said, "We're not..." But he didn't finish.

He wasn't just trying to save money, thinking that I wouldn't sleep anyway.

What would John do if he knew how I felt? Does John know how I feel? How does John feel?

Does he even want a relationship? A relationship like that, with me?

How would that even work?

\----

Was John flirting?

John cut me off.

"That's an order, corporal."

Oh, would he be like this in bed?

"Nice touch." He was getting better. His face wasn't giving away my ruse every time anymore. He was catching on more quickly.

"Haven't pulled rank in ages."

"Did you enjoy it?"

"Oh, yeah."

Oh... yeah.

\----

"Oh, please. Can we not do this, this time?"

What does he mean? "Do what?"

"You, being all... mysterious. With your... cheekbones and turning your coat collar up so you look cool."

"I don't do that" to 'look cool.' I thought he liked it, anyway. How do I control my cheekbones? The Woman...

Oh, is he flirting?

"Yeah, you do."

\----

"This is... ah. A-are you rich?"

For the love of-! _John,_ even _I_ know that was not good.

Well, at least that took care of the problem I was having and I can focus again.

Wait... Our finances were decent. Why is John being weird?

\----  
That's not possible. It is not possible for me to have seen the hound. It's not possible.

But, I did.

"I need to think."

\----

John sat down next to me. John will help me. John understands these things. I need to trust John, with this, like I trust him with everything else. If I tell John... maybe... He'll explain this to me. He always helps me with the sentiment stuff. He keeps me... right.

John was chattering about the case.

When he paused I swallowed all my fear, "Henry was right."

"What?"

"I saw it too. I saw it too, John."

"Just... Just a minute, you saw what?"

"A hound. Out there in the hollow. A gigantic hound." It wasn't there. I know it. But, I saw it.  If it wasn't there that means that I'm broken. That I'm seeing things that aren't there. That you don't actually... want me.

"Sherlock, we have to be rational about this. Now, you, of all people can't just... Let's just... Let's just stick to what we know, yes? Stick to the facts."

"Once you've ruled out the impossible anything that remains, however improbable, must be true."

"What does that mean?"

You've stopped dating women. You haven't started dating men. You tried to book a double. You've started flirting with me. There's only one logical conclusion.

My hand shook as I took my glass. "Huh." I watched it. "Look at me, I'm afraid, John. Afraid."

"Sherlock."

"I've always been able to keep myself distant." I said, between sips of the alcohol I'd ordered to calm my nerves. People used alcohol to relax before undertaking a sexual relationship. "Divorce myself from feelings. But, look, you see?" I held the glass up for John. "My body's betraying me." My hand shook worse. "Interesting, yes? Emotions." I set the glass down. "The grit on the lens the fly on the ointment." I knew I should stop talking. John was giving me a strange look. I needed him to know, to understand.

I was terrified.

I had these _emotions_ , and half of them I couldn't even label let alone begin to understand. I needed him. If I were to do this. He needed to understand.

"Yeah, all right, Spock."

Pop culture reference I must have deleted. I couldn't remember how to access it right now in any case.

"Just take it easy. You've been pretty wired lately. You know you have. I think you've just gone out there and got yourself a bit worked up."

"Worked up?" Is that what I've been doing? Imagining things that aren't there? Is this John telling me I've been imagining it all?

"It was dark and scary..." 'You are scared of me leaving you. It was confusing.'

No, please. "Me? There's nothing wrong with me." Oh, god. What if there is? I've never felt like this. What if I'm broken?

"Sherlock?"

I replayed everything.

"Sherlock."

"There is nothing wrong with me! Do you understand?" I still work! I still deduce just fine. "You want me to prove it, yes?" I proceeded to do so.

John wasn't reacting... He was looking at me like...

"Just leave me alone!" I can't. If John was rejecting me... I can't! I'm not broken. I can't be! But, he was. He was rejecting me. This can't happen!

"Why would you listen to me? I'm just your friend."

"I don't have friends." You rejected me then, too.

"No. I wonder why?" He got up and left.

John was angry.

Why?

It took me a bit but I figured it out.

"Oh." He was rejecting me, as a romantic partner. But, he wanted to be friends. He still wanted me in his life. That... That was ok.

It was ok.

It was ok.

It was ok.

I needed to show John that. That it was ok.

A text. I hated talking anyway. _Henry's therapist currently in Cross Keys Pub. -S_ I'd stopped adding the H to the ends of my texts. I'd wanted a different initial.

"Stupid."

_SO?_

All caps. Still angry.

 _Interview her?_ If I was broken I couldn't do it.

_WHY SHOULD I?_

I sent him a picture. She was attractive. I suppose. Anyway, John would understand. John would know that I wasn't bitter. That he could still date. That I would be fine. That's what I am. Fine. Always... just... fine.

I watched John enter the pub and started flirting. I left. It was fine. It was just that John was upset by one night stands. That's all. I didn't have all the data.

\----

DRUGS!

When, where?

Sugar!

\----

I saw John, sitting alone. I was feeling better. Better enough. Friendship was enough.

He was upset. Still. Didn't get anywhere with the therapist, then. Sexually. Perhaps on the case?

I asked him about the Morse code.

John was upset.

Asked him about the therapist.

Angry again.

I decided to tease him. That what friends do, right?

"Funny doesn't suit you. I'd stick to ice."

Oh, right. Ok.

I explained what I'd deduced about the hound. Tried to get his opinion. But he was still mad.

I probably needed to tell him I thought of him as a friend. Make it clear that... it was just the drugs. It was an addled state. Tell him that... Lie to him. I needed to lie. I needed him to think I wasn't gay. That he was wrong. That I wasn't... "I don't have friends. I've just got one." It wasn't really a lie. Just... misleading. That was ok, right? If he actually was my friend it was true.

He was still angry. I needed- OH!

"You are amazing! You are fantastic!" Those were the words he spoke to me. To show me that he thought I had value. That he valued me. That I wasn't a freak. That I was something good.

He seemed angry so I felt the need to explain. I complemented that which he was singular at: bringing out the best in me.

\----

This... this was a risk. I could drug Lestrade. I suppose. But he was drinking alcohol. It might alter the experiment. Plus, John would stay by me. It would be easier to keep tabs on him. I knew, mostly, how he acted. Getting Lestrade somewhere with conditions that would be optimal would be difficult.

If John knew though... If John knew that I knew he didn't take sugar. He would be suspicious. It would be hard to overcome.

I'd made him coffee before. Just once. He'd said it was dreadful and to leave it to him.

He probably wouldn't remember. It was a long time ago. And he didn't watch my every move. He probably didn't catalogue everything about me the way I did him.

Why would he?

"Mmmm... I don't take sugar."

I know. That's why I think the drugs must be in the sugar. But, clearly... Clearly you don't remember. You don't know that I know that.

Why would you?

Boring discussion. I watched John's progress.

They had the dog. Clearly. Said it was put down. They were lying. But, that explained it. I added it to my mental notes. John might have to see something large and black moving around in order to trigger the hallucinations.

I checked the cup when he left. Yes, he drank enough. I think. It should be, anyway.

"Appeals to his..."

"Asperger's."

Nice, John.

It doesn't matter. It's fine.

Maybe I should take it further. Allow him to see what he wants to see.

I set his expectations. Set the variables for the experiment.

\----

"Could be dangerous." You need danger. I know. Even just as a friend. If you don't need me you need what I provide.

\----

"It's what I've... negotiated."

Moriarty.

It'll be fine. Mycroft... It'll be fine. We'll work together. Make plans. Contingencies. We can keep an eye on him. Figure him out. Mycroft needed this and I needed to make sure. To make absolutely sure that it was just the drugs. That fear was a side effect. That...

\----

John was scared. John... John was begging for help.

My chest hurt.

But I needed to know!

\----

John was ok. He would be ok. I'd keep an eye on him, just to be sure. The doctor asked John too. John was ok.

The texts. The texts weren't stopping. They were driving me mad!

I couldn't find anything!

Text. Text. Text.

"Arg!" I threw the slide at the wall.

It alarmed John so I explained. "Nothing there! It doesn't make any sense." I explained further.

"Sugar."

Oops. Well, maybe it was good. He'd realize that I knew how he took his drinks. He'd understand that I cared. (But, Moriarty...)

No. John didn't see. No matter. It's fine.

She needed to leave. I wouldn't be able to pay attention when I was in my mind palace. It put me at risk. If John was compromised he wouldn't be able to protect me. He would get hurt trying to protect me. He was completely asinine in that way. But it was something he needed, to protect people, so I didn't complain much. I tried to protect him too. He needed to stay here. With me. And she needed to leave.

He left with her though. Talking about my mind palace. Apparently it was irritating to him. That a palace was something too grandiose. That it was... not good. But, if she was going to take advantage of his compromised state he only had to protect himself. He was capable of doing that.

\----

 _"Severe frontal lobe damage."_ NO! John!

Only after prolonged exposure. Oh, good.

I didn't damage John. He'd be fine. It was just one time. A few moments. He'd be fine.

Fine. No, John would be ok. Ok. No, John would suffer no prolonged ill effects. Yes, that's good. I didn't hurt him.

\----

"So, they didn't have it put down then, the dog." I brought John his coffee. Once chance. One last explanation. If he didn't see...

"Obviously. Suppose they just couldn't bring themselves to do it."

You don't need to explain that to me, John. "I see."

"No, you don't."

My chest hurt. That was getting irritating. It's fine. If this is what John wants... Maybe, maybe I can accomplish it. Separate myself again. "No, I don't. Sentiment?"

"Sentiment."

John started... thinking. Thinking about the lab. He didn't know... Oh... Distract him! "Do you want some sauce with that?"

Explain the pipes. He dosed himself. "Ketchup was it? Or brown?" I already knew.

"You thought it was in the sugar. You were convinced it was in the sugar."

Wrong tactic. He saw the sugar but he was missing the bigger picture. That I knew... Distract him before he finishes that thought.

"You locked me in that bloody lab."

Oh, John. Why are you so observant when it comes to my not good actions? Explain it to him...

"I was terrified Sherlock."

I know. I was too.

"I was scared to death."

You saw me John, you know I felt the same.

One last try. Please, John... "The drug was in the sugar. So I put the sugar in your coffee." _Please..._

He sighed. Irritated.

It's fine. I can do this. He clearly wants this from me. He needs me to be lacking in this way. I can do this, for John. I explained, recounted. Left out the parts he didn't want to hear: how my chest clenched and why I needed to know. I explained the part he wanted to hear and he got offended. "You know what I mean." About that remark, anyway.

This is exhausting.

"You were wrong. It wasn't in the sugar. You got it wrong."

"A bit." I got the drugs part right. I was wrong about your feelings. I was wrong about how you saw me. I was wrong to think you would ever want me in that way. "Won't happen again." No, I'll never do that again, John. Since you hated it so. Since you were so adamant in your belief that I was incapable of... being that way. That I'm incapable of sentiment. It's fine. It'll be easier. You won't see the... pain. I won't suffer the... heartbreak, to you. I don't have a heart.

"Any long term effects?"

Not for you. I'll be careful. "None at all." Oh, the drugs. "You'll be fine once you've excreted it. We all will."

He made a joke. That's what friends so. Make jokes. Yes, we could be friends. Friends and flatmates. That was fine.

\----

I filed and catalogued my emotions on the train home. I identified each one. Accepted it. The ones I couldn't dismiss I locked away. It would be easier if I could just delete the memories each originated from but I couldn't bring myself to do it. It was a cumulation of events... and, it was John. Sentiment. A defect found on the losing side.

And Moriarty. Who promised to burn the heart out of me.

He didn't manage to do that though. It wasn't him. John damaged it but he didn't mean to, I think. I'd do the burning myself. Moriarty was too late.

John noticed my distraction on the train. "All you alright?"

He always chose the worst times to be observant.

"I'm fine, John."

 

 

 

.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Ok, I tried writing this differently but it is exhausting not writing in first person pov when you're writing someone's thoughts. Y'all will just have to live with it.  
> Also, I don't agree with half of what Sherlock thinks. The main things is: I don't think John is afraid of his bisexuality. I think he's scared to show Sherlock because he doesn't want to scare him off.  
> I've decided to write John's POV as a companion to this because mania/lack of sleep/fear is difficult to read. No idea when I'll get around to it but I'll add it to the list.


End file.
